The Unnamed Short
by Ares Is Awesome
Summary: Short story divided into little segments. Read to understand it. I will tell you that I am bringing people to the Overland, but not how you expect... I can't come up with a title or summery... it's too short as of yet... Three months after Code of Claw...
1. Part A

**Part A: Wounds**

* * *

A deep, alerting warning horn from the city blared, echoing in the small cavern where Howard and Nike ate their lunch. Not good. There were intruders in Regalia, possibly ones with malicious intent. 

"Shall we?" Howard asked his new bond, an edge of worry in his voice. The striped bat nodded her head, and flared her wings in preparation for the takeoff. All food was abandoned at it's spot.

"What could it be?" Nike mused aloud. Howard didn't respond to this; he was preoccupied with worry and fear. The horn hadn't been used in several months, during the war.

The flight was excruciatingly long, Regalia seeming to be staying the same distance away. There was a series loud cracks, louder than anything Howard had ever heard before, even though he was a several minute flight from the source of the noise. Regalia. Nike flicked her ears in irritation, and twitched her nose.

"It smells of smoke," she said, puzzled, "but different than any smoke I have ever smelled."

Howard could smell nothing, but was only twice as worried. Nike seemed to sense his urgency, maybe even felt the same, and tried to fly even faster.

Immediately, Nike recognized the Arena as the sense of the smoky smell. The pair cautiously entered, somewhat surprised and shocked at what they found.

One Overland male stood off at one end, holding an oddly shaped tube-like metal device. Four Underlanders and two fliers lay in a bloody heap on the ground. The Overlander looked menacingly over at Howard, stroking his black gotee. He pointed the thing at the confused Underlander, who had instinctively drawn his sword.

"Put it down," the Overlander's gruff voice warned, gesturing to the sword with the contraption. "I don't want to have to hurt you.

While Howard was considering whether or not he should comply, a bat and its bond came hurtling down at the Overlander from the ceiling of the Arena. The Overlander reflexively pulled up and aimed the metal device at the flier, producing a deafening crack similar to the ones heard earlier, with an accompanying burst of blinding light. The bat crumpled to the ground, blood spewing from its unmoving chest. The human got off shakily, staring at their bond in stunned silence, while the Overlander turned back to Howard.

"Put the sword down," he grunted forcefully to Howard, "or the same happens to you."

Eyes wide, Howard slowly lowered his weapon in the direction of the ground. As the Overlander turned to the downed Underlander, who had flung their arms around the golden neck of their dead bond, Howard struck. He brought his sword up in an arc, slicing the Overlander's wrists. At the same time, the Overlander started turning toward Howard, and made the device go off with three loud cracks and more bright flashes of light. Howard felt a sharp stinging in his right shoulder, but ignored it as he went in to strike again.

He succesfully drove his sword through the Overlander's throat, who collapsed backward in a heap. Howard glanced downward at his right arm. His shirt sleeve had been dyed scarlet with his blood, which was spewing from a new wound in his shoulder. As he collapsed backward, getting close to losing the loose grip he had on consciousness, he saw a few bats flying in, lifting himself and the two others who had been wounded in the last explosion; both of whom were related to him.

Nike had a large hole in her left wing, near her body, and was being flown out by another flier, though seemed to be conscious. And the other, though Howard had not noticed her presence until that moment in time, was his cousin, the queen, with a vacant, pained look in her open eyes, which stared off into the distance. Blood blossomed like a crimson flower across the white shirt she wore, staining her whole torso red from a central location on her stomach, her breathing appeared short and labored.


	2. Part B

**Part B: Up **

* * *

The image of his cousin so badly wounded forced Howard to sit up, consciousness no longer fading.

"Cousin!" he shouted, though he received no response. He gingerly felt his own wound on the top of his shoulder. It was just a graze, but had stained much of his shirt red. Glancing over at his cousin once more, Howard knew what he must do, knew that it was most likely going to be considered illegal to the Underlanders, but he had to do something.

As blood continued to leak out of his shoulder, a plan formulated in his mind. He told the flier he was on of his idea, who in turn relayed it to the flier carrying the young queen in pitches too high for human ears. The pair of fliers veered off their direct course to the hospital, and instead flew upward. They would travel to the Overland. The flight, however, seemed agonizingly slow. It was as though the

At the top of the gateway, Howard quickly clambered out of the grate, wincing as he accidentally scraped his wounded shoulder on the side. It was not as bright as he'd expected just then, only a small shaft of light coming through the door at the end of the narrow room. If he'd had enough time, Howard could have spent hours examining the laundry room alone, but it was an urgent matter. Quickly, he exited the room, into a fully lit hallway.

He covered his eyes in surprise at the intensity of the light. It was brighter than most fires he'd ever seen in the Underland, even brighter than the light sticks Gregor had often used. Again, he could have marveled at them for so long, but he needed to find Gregor. Selecting a random door, Howard made an attempt to enter, though he found it locked. He knocked on it somewhat loudly. A middle-aged man opened the door after what seemed like forever. His eyes were still closed, and he looked asleep.

"It's three in the mornin' fer Christ's sake! What could ya want?" the man wheezed, looked agitated.

"I apologize," Howard told him, "do you know where Gregor resides?"

The man snorted, muttering to himself.

"Damned Brits," he sighed. "Fifth floor. Now leave me alone."

With that, he slamed the door in Howard's face. Fifth floor... Howard dashed up the stairs, knocking on the first door he came to on the fifth floor, harder than he had before. An older woman came to the door, looking very tired. "May I help y--" She stopped, taking a good look at Howard.

"You must be looking for Gregor," she noted. "Next door over. What do you need him for? Is it a matter of life-and-death?" She glanced at Howard's bloodstainer shoulder. "No, wait, I'm sure it is."

Howard just nodded, before pounding on the door to Gregor's apartment. He inwardly prayed that it wouldn't be too late by the time everything had been worked out.

It was Lizzie who answered the door. She looked at Howard, eyes wid in surprise, before disappearing into the apartment. Four seconds later, Gregor appeared at the door, wide awake and alert.

"Howard! What is it? Oh, man, your shoulder... What happened?" Howard quickly recapped the Overlander's assault, ending with the urgency and critical condition of his cousin. The pair rushed to the laundry room.

"You're going to need a story," Gregor told him, as they dashed down the stairwell. "You both were shot by a mugger when you were walking home from... somewhere..."

Gregor flicked on the lights when they entered the laundry room, out of habit. Howard hissed in surprise and pain, causing Gregor to apologetically turn the lights back off. They urgently moved over to the grate.

Unloading Luxa from the shaft was much harder than anticipated. It didn't help that both of their hands were trembling, and Howard couldn't make good use of his right shoulder. The Underlander ended up having to go into the vent on one of the fliers and guide her unconscious form carefully through the opening. It took several minutes--several minutes that may make all the difference.

Howard carefully picked up his cousin, cradling her in his arms, trying to keep the majority of her weight off his right side, not trusting his wounded shoulder. Gregor lead him out the door and into the street. New York City at night was so unbelievable to Howard, who lost focus for a few seconds. He drowned in the fluorescent lights, the scent of car smog, and the generally loud noise that surrounded them. Car horns, headlights, everything came at Howard at once.

"We'll see it later," Gregor hissed, "I promise."

At the phone booth up one block, Gregor dialed 9-1-1, while Howard stared at the telephone in awe. Gregor insisted that he sit down. Exhausted, Howard agreed, though he kept holding on to his cousin. He brushed the hair out of her face, eyes welling with tears. He had failed. He said he would look out for her, and he failed. It would be his fault if she died. Others would try to take the blame off of him, but he knew it would be his fault if she died... Howard swallowed hard, trying to keep back the tears, but they came anyhow. He slipped off into a warm-feeling, dreamless sleep of unconsciousness just as a few screaming calls of some unfamiliar object trumpeted its arrival.


End file.
